Colin Brunton Interview
by Jules Ross 2007
I stumbled across it. I knew I wanted TV static so I googled: “tv static + myspace + tweak” and on the third page of results I found it. Since then, I’ve even found a better one, but I don’t know what part of the code it is and I don’t want to mess up the page, it took me a long time to build. How did you get your start? Did it help to be a LIFT member, or were you more connected by working at the movie theatres and the Horseshoe? I barely finished high school, but I felt like the luckiest kid there. I was 15 when I got a job at the notorious 99 Cent Roxy theatre. The Roxy was known for two things: 1. Playing a different movie every night. This meant that I got to see everything from high cinema to trashy B movies. That’s where I met Gary Topp, the best promoter in Canada. Gary was responsible for bringing the Ramones into Toronto for the first time. After that, I worked in the New Yorker, where Gary started bringing in the punk bands. Then he got the Horseshoe. By then, I knew I wanted to be in the arts. I took a two week course in filmmaking and one night in 1978, we were hanging out and someone said something about this upcoming concert called The Last Pogo. I piped in and said I was going to film it. The next thing I knew, there i was. I drove cab to make the money to buy the film, and with the help of Patrick Lee, rounded up a crew and equipment. I was completely naive, and had no idea what i was getting into. Had I known how much it would cost to produce, I probably wouldn’t have done it. After that, I was hooked. I drove cab to make money and every so often, I’d get a film gig and managedto make a few short films. I got my cab license in 1981 and had it for 10 years. During that time, I made Roadkill and Highway 61. They were popular and had a lot of notoriety, but at the end of the day, I was still driving that cab trying to make $40 a shift. How did you break through? I was 26 in 1981. That’s when I got sucked into the cab drivers lifestyle. I was young. I have no excuse. I know I could have gotten a gig. I would stumble across a production assistant job now and again and then I’d fall back to cab driving. I knew if I kept renewing my license I’d end up like all my friends. Everyone thinks that they’ll just drive cab for a few years, no one thinks they stay, but they do. I didn’t have to have the license for 10 years. I mean, it took 3 years to get gigs, even free ones and I didn’t get steady paid work until my mid-30s. But when I was 37 or 38 I had my first kid and I knew I had to get a handle on things. I see it over and over. In my workshops, there’s one thing that no one ever thinks about and that is: “why do they want to make films?” It stumps everyone. No one can answer and that’s because it doesn’t make any sense; not financially, that’s for sure and creatively there are a lot of traps. Usually, you don’t end up making the movie you want to make, because once money is involved, everyone wants a say. My best feature is Roadkill, we made it for $200,000, no one thought we could do it, no one questioned us, and there was a wonderful spirit on the project. Creatively, it was very successful. Let me correct that: My best movie is Duality of Self, featuring weirdo mysterious musican Jandek. It’s a concert DVD edited in a freaky way with a total budget of $500. So money isn’t everything? It really isn’t. You see, Roadkill got shown on CBC one night and drew an audience of 700,000 people . I started to think, why was I going after the theatres? I can reach a bigger audience on TV. And these days, I’d rather do digital. It’s cheaper, flexible, and in the end, way more fun. Right now, I’m doing a follow up to The Last Pogo. I’ve been shooting it since last June and I’ll probably be shooting until next year. I already have 45 hours of footage at $7 per tape. I’ve seen 1 hour so far. Laughs. The poor editors! I’M poor editor!!! You see, the thing about documentaries is, the more you shoot the better it’s going to be. With digital, not only can I shoot it forever, but I can get more people to cover the event for me. I’ve got a little gang of directors and shooters who are helping out. I ask them to go get an interview with someone, or make a short film about them. Anything goes. There’s a real coop, DIY feel. It’s fitting. Does this create an issue with creative control? No. Everyone knows that I have final say. It’s more about collaboration. I don’t know what the movie is about yet. I’ll have to hole up in a cabin for a month with coffee and look at it. Hello Muskoka! Laughs. My 14 year old son Ollie is helping me. It sounds like you go with the flow. I do. I think whatever kind of attitude you have goes back to your roots. I think Gary Topp taught me how to sorta stay cool, it’s how it was at the Roxy, the New Yorker, and the Horseshoe. How did you get the position of executive director of the feature film project at the CFC? I ran into Alex Raffe as I was getting off a streetcar at John and Queen. She suggested the gig. At the time my girlfriend was pregnant and the prospect of a ‘serious’ job sounded good. I met with Wayne Clarkson for an interview and he offered me some food and wine but I was too nervous to eat. He told me that they didn’t have much money and offered me a 5 digit salary, which was more money than I’d ever seen. So I got the job. Then the hard part started. It took me a year and a half before I could even look at the scripts that were coming in. A lot of them were, well, mediocre and reading 10 mediocre scripts a week is really grating. It’s not as gruelling as being a lumberjack or coal-miner, but it feels like work. Naiveté has done me well in this business. And there is a thin line between naiveté and stupidity, and I have so straddled that line my whole so-called career. At the Film Centre, I had sole authority to green light films, but that’s a double edge sword. I had to turn down so many of them. For the 5 projects I green lit, I turn down 495 others. I would just break peoples’ hearts. When I left the film centre, it wasn’t as though there was a big line up at my door to hire me as a producer, so I joined the Director’s Guild. You mentioned that you would read a lot of mediocre scripts. Do you agree that there is a shortage of good content? I do and this is where digital can save the day. There is so much money tied up in making a feature and because of that more often than not you end up with something watered down. For example, Foolproof could have been so much better. It was still a good movie, but it could have been a lot better. That’s why I think Digital is better. If you know how to write to budget, theoretically you can go out on weekends and shoot the best movie ever made. What about distribution? I can foresee a time where there are two types of films: (1) spectacles made with a 1⁄2 billion dollar budget and (2) quirky or personal or experimental films that are put online. The thing that gets in people’s way is the big question ‘why do you want to make this movie?’ If you’re thinking about making money, then go the traditional route, but know that they will get their hands on it. You should know that you’ll lose quality for every dollar you raise. I only wish that I could have done this (digital filmmaking) 30 years ago. It levels the playing field. I’ve never been a huge David Lynch fan, but I agree with his take on things: no more distributers or huge camera crews. The only problem with THE LAST POGO JUMPS AGAIN CHACHA CHA is that I have to pay the music licenses, there’s a ton of music, and that’s going to take some cash. How did Hedwig and the Angry Inch come about? It was a hired gun job and the best thing I’ve worked on. I’ve watched it 3 or 4 times and I love it every time. I’m shocked that it didn’t get more notice publicly. I know! On paper it’s a tough sell, but whoever I’ve shown it to can’t believe how good it is. When I got the call for that movie, I was getting hired to be a line producer and production manager on some of the worst films imaginable. These were the most mediocre, insulting-to-your-intelligence projects imaginable. I mean everyone on the crew would say the projects were “pieces of shit”. So when I got the call from my agent saying that there’s some people from New York City with a rock opera that they want to make into a feature. I’m thinking, “oh, god, how lame is this going to be?!” I got in my car and start listening to the music. I get tons of music submissions, so I’m thinking it’s going to be lame, but I hear it and say “woah!”. And the tunes just got better and better. Then I read the script, which was awesome. So, I was thinking to myself, “I got to get this job.” John Cameron Mitchell came into town and I met him in the Gay Ghetto and got the gig. HEDWIG was one of those moments where you think, “I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this.” On the first day of shooting, the band starts playing “Tear Me Down” and simulataneously 50 crew members’ jaws drop because you felt like you were watching Iggy Pop or David Bowie for the first time. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about i. And the film could have been even better! There was one key crew member that I think brought the quality down...but I’m not going to tell you who it was.
Any sage commentary for young hopefuls? Persistence. And remember Winston Churchill: “When you’re in Hell...keep going”. You can learn more about Jules Ross at her website www.julessite.com
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